


From the First Moment

by Balenae



Series: Moments [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Existential Nonsense, Genji gets mad, Genji is a disaster, M/M, Oops, Zenyatta is a low-key goober, Zenyatta won't leave Genji alone, so much dialogue, that could've been the alternate title, this was supposed to be short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balenae/pseuds/Balenae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first moment Genji meets Zenyatta he has a sword against the Omnic's neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the First Moment

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, how they met according to my fic 'Teaching Moments'.
> 
> Let me know if its hard to follow. I was literally so rolling with the dialogue I had to stop at a few points and be like 'fuck, didn't put any quantifiers in here.' Hopefully I fixed it and things are clear.

Genji woke abruptly, and knew he was in a strange place. Not where he’d—His head swam, trying to think of where he was last, and he recalled only foggy memories of pain and passing out. He looked around, finding himself in a plain, small room. There was no furniture, but he was lying on a mat on the floor. There was one small window, up near the ceiling, and there was no door in the doorway, just a cloth tied closed to cover the opening.

Where _was_ he?

He found his weapons sitting by and reached for them, relieved as his hand gripped the familiar hilt of the dragonblade. Wherever he was, whatever had happened, at least he still had these.

He sat up and hissed, feeling pain along his back, feeling errors and misfires from some of the electronics in his spinal flux, certain something was lodged moderately deep. He shifted, moving, assessing his own condition. Three points of damage along his back, range of movement limited. Based on his experience he assumed they were likely bullets or shrapnel of some kind. 

He shook his head, but his memory was foggy. Sometimes if he didn’t hibernate properly it took time for his memories to sort themselves out, and knew it would come in time.

Until then, he wasn’t sure _where_ he was. 

He stood slowly, wincing a bit beneath his faceplate, but at least he could move and support himself. He picked up his weapons and strapped them back on, the magnets locking them tight, a slight buzz in his electronics from their activation, but unlike normal computers he could withstand it. 

His auditory sensors refocused to the door. He heard footsteps coming down the hall, metal on stone, the faint sound of mechanical elements working together. He pressed back against the wall on the right side of the door. The curtain had been tied to the left, would push right to open, he would be less visible from this side. He drew his katana soundlessly, and waited, tense. 

The curtain opened and pushed aside and an Omnic robot dressed in shabby saffron pants with strange, enormous mala draped around his shoulders stepped in carrying a tray with a steaming mug of tea and stopped as he glimpsed the empty room.

Genji _lunged_ for him, grappling him into a tight, immobilizing hold, knocking them both to the floor. The Omnic made a sound of alarm but went over easily, the tray going flying, the mug shattering into a mess on the floor. Genji shifted and pinned him, one knee on his chest, blade under the Omnic’s chin against a set of delicate wires.

“Don’t move,” He growled in Japanese. 

The Omnic did not, and replied in kind, “Ah, it is good to see you are awake. Japanese then?”

Genji pressed tighter with the blade, “Where am I?”

“You are at the Shambali Monastery, Nepal.” He told Genji easily.

“How did I get here? What do you want with me?”

“I am not sure how you arrived in the mountains. You were found on the road, frozen, badly damaged and brought to us.”

“What do you _want_ with me?” Genji repeated and pressed with the blade, “I want _answers_.”

“I personally would be most gratified to see you well again. The villagers thought we would know more about how to take care of an machine such as yourself, but I confess you are more advanced than we. We did not wish to do more damage, and thought it best to wait till you regained consciousness. I hope for nothing more than your speedy recovery.” He actually sounded fairly earnest.

Genji snorted, suspicion laced heavy in his tone, “Why?”

“Because I was concerned for your well-being.”

“I do not need your _concern_ , Omnic.”

“No,” the robot agreed, “But you _did_ need my help.”

“Hmph,” Genji pulled the sword back, but remained kneeling on him. “I’m leaving then. If you make any sudden movements, I’m going to sever every limb you have.”

The monk didn’t seem phased at all, “You are welcome to leave whenever it suits you, however you have not yet been repaired, and might be at risk to shut down again. If you go too far, we might not be able to find you a second time.”

“I’ll be _fine,_ ” Genji snapped, but he didn’t sound as certain as he would’ve liked.

The Omnic sat up a bit, pushing against the knee on his chest, “We are fairly deep in the Himalayan range. It is days along the main road to the next village.”

Genji was quiet a moment, watching the robot, “If I stay, will I be able to repair my damage?”

“Yes, we will do our best.”

He huffed and spoke with distaste, “I don’t want any help you’ll offer me, but… Fine. I will stay until I can manage repairs.”

The Omnic nodded, “I am pleased to hear this. I would worry, should you have sought to set out into the mountains.”

Genji stood and sheathed his blade, “I do not , _need_ your worry either.”

“But you have it nonetheless,” The Omnic shifted over and began to collect the shards of the broken teacup. Genji watched him clean it up, eyeing him, distrustful and wary. “Are you hungry?”

Genji hesitated, “I… could eat.” It would help kick start the healing process, or so Dr. Ziegler had said. He wasn’t sure how it would work with the shrapnel in his back, and he had fallen out of the habit of consumption over the years. He could not remember the last time he had actually _eaten_ something.

“Then I will bring you something. You may remain here.” He stood, tray tucked under his arm, ceramic shards cupped in his hand. He bowed his head forward to him, “I am Tekhartha Zenyatta. Welcome.” Then he stepped out and departed. 

When the Omnic—Zenyatta—had left, he stuck his head out in the hall, looking up and down, but finding it completely empty. It was fairly quiet, a hint of something tonal in the distance like a slow, monkish chant. Satisfied he was alone, he settled back in to wait, back twinging painfully as he sat.

Sometime later Zenyatta returned, a tray with a bowl of rice porridge and another cup of tea. Genji waited, sitting perfectly still even though his back spasmed and cramped with the pain of his damaged cybernetics. The monk set the tray down before him and Genji muttered a grudging, “Thank you,” But didn’t move to take them.

Zenyatta tilted his head, considering, “Are they not to your liking?”

“I don’t eat in front of people,” Genji said shortly, “Or robots.”

The Omnic chuckled softly, “Do you believe I am not a person?”

“I don’t really care.”

Zenyatta made a soft, considering sound. “That is unfortunate.” He stood, leaving the food and tray, “May I ask your name?”

“Shimada, Genji,” There was no point hiding it. His name meant nothing these days. It was not a criminal heir, nor a covert Overwatch agent. 

“Genji then, welcome.” The monk stood and departed, leaving him to eat in peace. 

Only once Genji was sure he was alone, did the mask come off and his meal begin. His body, flesh and metal both, was equipped to actually repair minor issues itself, and there was little he’d encountered in his years working for Overwatch that he’d actually needed to sit for repairs on. 

But he’d never had anything lodged in him like this and wasn’t sure how it would work. Perhaps his body would work them out. If not he’d need help to dig them out. He grimaced, he didn’t want to have to ask the Omnics for further aid.

He heard approaching steps again and the mask came back on, but this time there was a knock at the doorframe, polite and mindful. “Enter.”

Zenyatta came in and set down another tray of the same, porridge and tea, “I wasn’t sure how hungry you were.” He stood again, “If you feel up to it you can find me on the terrace afterward.”

Genji nodded slowly, already feeling the pain and aches he’d sport moving in his condition, “I will.”

The monk simply nodded and left again.

Genji finished both bowls and mugs and stood. He didn’t head out to the terrace immediately, and was more interested in exploring his surroundings. Should something go wrong, he wanted to be prepared. 

He slunk through the main chamber, undetected, taking in the vaulted ceiling and the trailing banners. He made a careful circle of it, passed several other Omnic monks, not a one of them aware of him. Once he was satisfied he slipped out an upper window and found the monastery was rather different than he’d anticipated.

It was built right into the side of the mountain. 

It was magnificent, in a remote, lonely sort of way. Long banners baring that same symbol he didn’t recognize tumbled down in the wind, and huge statues of Omnics, looking more recent than the monastery itself sat, heads bowed and hands folded, hovering by some technology. 

He considered trying to race up the side and leap across the terraces, but his back ached and he knew that was likely not a wise idea until he’d been properly repaired. The idea causing him to grind his teeth a little. He had a feeling he would need to ask these monks for help removing the shrapnel. 

And speaking of—

A familiar spherical chrome head was bowed where it sat on one of the terraces. He approached slowly and stood behind, waiting to be acknowledged. 

Zenyatta tilted his head towards him almost immediately, “Genji. Are you getting around well enough with your injury?”

“I’ve had no trouble.” He did not say that he hadn’t tried much. 

Zenyatta nodded, “I am gratified to hear that. We have a few basic tools to help with repair, but nothing that may fulfill your needs alone.”

“They will have to do,” Genji heaved a sigh, “I may require your… _help_ , should I be unable to do it myself. Once that is done, I am leaving this place.”

“Anything you need we will be happy to assist with. There is a village below the temple. Once a month or so a caravan leaves to bring some supplies in, you would likely be welcome to accompany them out of the mountains. It is probably easier than going alone.”

Genji nodded, “I will keep that in mind then.”

Zenyatta tilted his head at him, watching for a moment longer than strictly necessary, “There is much anger in your soul, Genji. I can see it in the way you hold yourself and the discord that pours off you like rain sluicing off a roof.”

Genji snorted, “That is none of your business.”

Zenyatta laughed at him softly, “You had a sword against my neck. I think I am allowed to make a few assumptions.”

“You could’ve been a threat,” Genji said frankly.

“Indeed,” Zenyatta told him seriously, “I can be deadly with a teacup.”

“One can never be too careful,” Genji argued. 

“Words to live by it seems,” Zenyatta made a soft thoughtful sound, “Wherever you came from, I suppose one cannot be.”

Genji growled at him, scowling behind the visor, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I meant no offense. But one does not become so wary without cause or reason.” Genji had nothing to say to that, and only nodded slowly, watching him with care. The Omnic beckoned to him, “Will you join me?”

The cyborg considered a moment, and then strode over slowly to sit next to him.

“What brought you to rural Nepal in the first place? This is not where people simply end up unless by some design.”

“That’s _my_ business, Omnic.”

Zenyatta’s voice was definitely amused when he spoke, “Peace, my friend. I was only going to offer assistance if I could.”

“I do not need help.”

“Very well, but the amount of disharmony I can sense from you worries me nonetheless.”

Genji snorted, “Did I not tell you I do not need your worry?”

“And yet,” Zenyatta told him loftily, “You have it all the same.”

“Look, I understand you feel somehow responsible for me, but I don’t need you to fuss over me.”

“I am not fussing, merely expressing concern for you.”

Genji decided he wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer and get sucked into this argument _again_ , and so said nothing.

Zenyatta hummed, the sound soft and happy, “It is lovely here, isn’t it?”

“It is,” the cyborg allowed, “Very… serene.”

“Tell me Genji, have you ever tried meditating?”

He snorted, remembering his training Master at the Shimada estate trying to drill some sort of even temperament into him growing up, insisting on making him mediate as part of his regular training. “Not in years.”

“Would you like to give it a try with me?”

Genji frowned under the visor, _“Why?”_

“Why not?” Genji stiffened, having no real counter to this and Zenyatta laughed again. “It is a particularly effective argument, is it not? I learned it from the children I teach. It _confounds_ my brothers and sisters when I turn it on them.”

“I have nothing to gain,” Genji pointed out.

“No, you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain.”

Genji huffed softly, “If I do this, will you stop worrying?”

“I suppose there’s one way to find out.”

Genji groaned, _“fine.”_

Zenyatta chuckled but said nothing more, and Genji settled in to attempt to meditate. It had been years though, and his head wouldn’t clear as easily as it had when he was younger. When he was _human_. His back pained him, and there were worries about what he was doing here, his memory still hadn’t restored, and the monks were strange and this one was _annoying_ and—

Zenyatta’s voice broke in long moments later, “Peace, there is no need to upset yourself.”

“I’m _fine,”_ Genji snapped at him.

“No, Genji,” the monk said, “You are not.” His head tilted towards the cyborg and then back at the mountains. “Leave it for today,” he hummed and then his voice brightened considerably, “Perhaps we will try again tomorrow.”

Genji muttered, getting up, “Yeah right.”

Zenyatta’s chuckle chased him off, “We shall see.”

\--

Genji kept exploring the Monastery, having nothing better to do, and unable to tolerate anything more strenuous. He attempted to scale to the second story of the monastery and regretted it immediately, half-collapsed on the floor of a terrace, grimacing through wave after wave of pain. Eventually it passed and he made his way back to the monk’s room. He slumped on the mat, feeling wrung out and empty. 

Eventually Zenyatta found him again as the evening pressed on, arms full of blankets. “I am uncertain if you require sleep or warmth,” he said, setting them down, “But it can get fairly cold here at night.”

“You don’t say,” Genji told him flatly.

Zenyatta ignored him blithely, “Hopefully my chambers are to your liking. I am afraid I have not had a reason to make them more welcoming, as I do not require much.”

“It is fine,” Genji said, waiting for him to leave.

“If you have need of anything, please find me in the main chamber,” Zenyatta stood and turned to go.

Genji hesitated and called out, “Wait.”

Zenyatta stopped, “Yes, Genji?”

“I would… appreciate some help with my back. If you may be able to assist.” It galled him to ask, but he did need aid with this.

Zenyatta, fortunately, did not say anything to mock him, “Gladly so. If you like we can do so tonight. If not we may try tomorrow.”

“Tonight,” Genji nodded, “Just… get it done.”

\--

Zenyatta left and returned with another monk, this one dressed in a white-and-gray kasaya, his faceplate matte white. “This is Tekhartha Mondatta,” Zenyatta introduced, “He will help me with your back.”

Genji bristled a bit, trusting neither but disliking the new presence even more. He reminded himself that he did need this done, that he’d asked for this, and finally nodded, “Very well.”

“Lay on your stomach, let us see,” Zenyatta held up an old set of metal pliers, “We will get out what ails you. I promise we’ll be gentle.”

Genji privately doubted nearly all parts of this, but he was out of options. He lay face down on the mat, forearms pillowed under his head, “Please be careful.”

“Of course,” Zenyatta moved over, beckoning Mondatta with him.

“I am surprised you are able to move at all,” the new monk said, but said nothing more when Zenyatta murmured something Genji didn’t catch.

“I know there was some trouble earlier attempting to meditate, Genji, but could you try again for me?” Zenyatta asked gently.

“Now? Are you serious?”

“Very. Please, close your eyes, focus on nothing. Let your mind move like mountain wind. I know you can.”

Genji grumbled, but tried, knowing he was going to come back down the moment they touched the injuries in his back. Slowly, his mind stilled, and he didn’t even hear the soft words the two monks exchanged. He felt hands at his back and stiffened, expecting pain—but there was only _pressure_ as a strange, golden warmth filled his mind. He closed his eyes, feeling the first point on his back suddenly loosen and relax as the lodged particle came free.

Why didn’t it _hurt?_ He shifted, he could turn around to see and disrupt, but he was comfortable, the golden warmth buffeting him gently like soft waves lapping at a stretch of sand. His mind drifted. Maybe there was something to this meditation thing after all. 

He felt a second point of pressure loosen, the second piece of shrapnel gone and made a soft involuntary sound but felt no desire to rouse yet, mind wrapped in this place of safe, golden warmth, like a pocket of sunlight. 

The third bullet came free and he couldn’t find it in him to care until he felt Zenyatta’s hand shaking him gently, and the golden ease from his meditation dispersed slowly and he shifted reluctantly to sit up.

Mondatta held the pair of pliers, head tilted, looking at the bullet grasped within like it was something completely surprising. In Zenyatta’s hands were the other two metal fragments.

“Very well done, Genji,” Zenyatta told him, warm and approving. “We are not sure if we need to do anything more for your back. There is no blood.”

Genji reached back, touching over the places in his back where there was once pain, but now was only an empty, lingering soreness. His fingers came away dry. “I do not bleed red anymore anyway. My internal fluid is green.”

“Fascinating,” Mondatta murmured and Zenyatta shot him a _look_ somehow without being able to form an expression. The byplay was rather interesting. 

“It feels better already. If I am not leaking then I would not worry. It should be well enough.”

Zenyatta pat his shoulder, “We will let you rest then. I will check on you come morning.”

They left him then and Genji curled up, letting his body slip into a hibernation period. It was rare he felt he needed one as urgently as he did now, but his processes were so sluggish that it was starting to affect his mind. Even now, years later, settling into _hibernate_ and not to really _sleep_ was disconcerting and disorienting, as his subconscious crashed against his waking experience and recalled. 

Since he’d left Overwatch, Genji didn’t really hunt criminals anymore. He’d left that behind him, and had too much on his own mind, too much darkness in himself to try and take on the evils of the world as well. 

But he wasn’t able to ignore it when things happened right in front of him. He never had been. 

He’d been holed up in an old defunct Overwatch safehouse on the Chinese side of the border with Nepal when he’d seen them—he remembered the insignias from his days doing fieldwork all over Asia between pushes to dismantle Shimada. 

Somewhere between a gang and a small organized military, the group was notorious for human trafficking. Genji had been present on more than one siege, tearing open shipping containers to find scared children inside. 

He couldn’t leave it alone. 

It would’ve been suicide to attack head-on alone, he didn’t have a team behind him anymore. He followed them across the Nepalese border, watched as they went deep into the mountains and overtook a small village, began killing the men and the elderly—his memories got muddied here, he would require further hibernation—he remembered fighting, he remembered killing. What he didn’t remember was drowned out by the roars of the dragon in his blood. 

He had missed one. 

Been shot from behind, took his attacker’s head but not before he went over a precipice. Damaged and lost he’d followed a road, hoping to find another village—

That was where everything went black, his memories skipping ahead to waking here, attacking Zenyatta.

The monk hadn’t been scared of him at all.

\--

Sometime after the sun had risen there was a knock against the doorframe, and Genji sighed and braced himself before calling, “Enter.”

Zenyatta stepped in with another breakfast tray, “I am afraid it’s the same as it was yesterday.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Genji told him, because it didn’t. He simply needed the fuel to help jumpstart his healing.

“As you say,” Zenyatta set them down and stood, knowing now that he needed to leave, “If you need anything come find me. I would also like it if you came to see me after you finish regardless.”

Genji nodded slowly, and once the monk had left he ate his breakfast. He turned over his soup of sudden memory in his mind, trying to push down his feelings. It didn’t matter. He downed his tea and pushed his faceplate back on, visor lighting up.

It didn’t matter.

Afterward he left to find his peaceful tormentor, his back felt _better_ but he wasn’t sure he wanted to try and climb the monastery again just yet. He spotted the familiar chrome head walking out along a terrace and fell into step beside him without a word. 

“I am gratified to see you walking around. I admit some apprehension you may try to climb the walls again,” He doesn’t know how he receives one of those pointed looks from an immovable faceplate but he _does_. He also doesn’t know how Zenyatta knew he’d tried. “It is nice to see you being patient with your body. I do not want you to overexert yourself.”

“I thought I told you to stop that. That worrying.”

“I don’t believe I agreed to anything,” Zenyatta said with a hum.

Genji huffed, “You’re wasting your time then.”

“If that is true, then it is mine to waste,” The monk pointed out.

“Fine, but do not say I didn’t warn you.”

Zenyatta chuckled, “I do not believe you’ve _warned_ me of anything.” Genji sighed heavily, and said nothing, so Zenyatta continued. “Still not ready to speak to me?”

“When is the next caravan leaving from the village?” He asked, voice sharp.

“Perhaps another three weeks, weather permitting.”

“That’s not soon enough.”

“May I ask where you need to be in such a hurry?” Zenyatta led them around the terrace to the overlook.

“Away from here,” Genji snapped.

“Is someone awaiting your return? Or perhaps there’s somewhere you need to be by a certain day?”

“That is my business, stop asking.” 

“Perhaps it is, but I can be of little help if you do not speak to me, Genji,” He said softly, clearly trying to encourage him. 

“I do not _want_ your help!” he nearly snarls, “I never asked for it!”

“One should rarely ask for gifts given freely,” Zenyatta points out happily and Genji almost groans aloud.

“I don’t need it then either.”

“I believe you might,” Zenyatta said, voice gentle, “And I would like to help you.”

Genji blew a hard breath, _“Why?”_

“Does one need a reason to help another?”

He groaned, “You are _insufferable_.”

This startled a real laugh out of Zenyatta, “I think you merely complain about me when you do not have an answer, Genji.”

“I think you shouldn’t bother helping me, monk,” He said, steps stopping, “I’ve had quite enough.”

Zenyatta tilted his head, curious, “Of?”

Genji’s voice was a great deal more bitter than he meant it to be when he spoke, “Help.”

The Omnic was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again, “Genji, if whatever aid you’ve received in the past has made you feel like this then it wasn’t helping you at all.”

Genji made an ugly sound, like a laugh he couldn’t quite commit to, “You have no idea, Omnic.”

“No I do not,” Zenyatta agreed, “But I am willing to listen.”

This deserved a mighty sigh, “I do not doubt it.” But Genji wasn’t ready to speak to him about this and so said nothing more.

Zenyatta seemed to understand, but would not simply take the silence offered, “It is good to have sureties in life.” Genji wondered if the Omnic could hear his eyeroll. “What else are you sure of?”

“Well you’re probably going to keep insisting on offering your help, regardless of whatever I say,” he pointed out, irritated.

“Very good,” Zenyatta hummed, “What else?”

Genji huffed, “Porridge and tea for lunch again. _And_ it will be cold tonight.”

Zenyatta considered, “Is there so little else in your life that you can count on to be true?”

“Normally I would count on being alone,” Genji said, hoping the Omnic took the hint for the future.

“Ah!” Zenyatta’s soft jubilation came immediately, “So we see how easily things change? You are not alone here, Genji. Not if you do not wish to be.”

“And if I do?”

“I do not think that is true. I think you have just grown accustomed to it.” He gestured to the monastery around them, “When we first came here I found this place to be very isolated and lonely. However, I grew used to it, and to even enjoy the beauty of the mountains and the calm in the silence. That does not mean that I do not still wish for the company of others, when I was surrounded by Omnic and human alike.”

“Then why not leave? Nothing is stopping you.”

“Because I have learned and grown here,” Zenyatta said, “And I am not quite done. There is more for me here yet.”

“So you think what? That I’m the same as you are?”

“Are you not?”

Genji scowled at him behind the visor and his voice came out low and angry, “No, not at all.”

If Zenyatta noted his irritation he made no mention of it, “And why is that?”

“Because you are an _Omnic_ , obviously.”

“And what does that matter? What I am or what you are?”

Genji shifted, words on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t _ready_ to speak of this ugly _thing_ inside him, outside him, and only shook his head.

But Zenyatta pushed, “Please continue, I want to know what you have to say. I am always curious about your thoughts and opinions, Genji.”

Genji shook his head, “I do not want to talk about. Not with you, not with _anyone_.”

Fortunately Zenyatta nodded, “Then we will not speak of your experiences right now. But if you would, I am curious to know your thoughts about why the two of us are unrelatable.”

Vitriol bubbled in Genji’s chest and his fists clenched, biting words on the tip of his tongue, that this frustrating _Omnic_ had at least always been what he was, that he didn’t know what it was like to _become_ something else. His anger simmered and before he could lash out he turned and stormed off without another word. 

Zenyatta said nothing behind him. 

\--

He didn’t see Zenyatta again until the monk brought lunch to his room, and sat watching as the Omnic brought in the tray, silent and full of ire. Zenyatta hummed softly as he set it down, “Please enjoy. I hope this is perhaps more to your liking,” 

Genji frowned and blinked as he took in the contents of the tray. 

That wasn’t porridge. 

There was still a mug of tea, but now there was a plate of rice, a bowl of lentil soup, and a smaller bowl of fresh yogurt. He glared at it, suspicious, and then looked up at Zenyatta. The monk had his hands folded and was projecting serenity, and it was almost enough to cover his distinctly smug mood. “What’s this?”

“I paid a visit to the village by the temple after you left to find you something more interesting for lunch.”

Genji glanced at it again and then back up, “Why?”

“Oh,” He hummed, “I thought perhaps it would be a pleasant _change_.”

Genji snorted, “If you say so.”

Zenyatta just laughed softly, “I see that everything may be an affront to you. I shall be more careful. You should eat though, you are still recovering.” He left him then, alone with the food and the gentlest form of _spite_ Genji thought he’d ever been subject to.

Sureties in life indeed.

The soup was delicious.

\--

After lunch, full of soup and rice and Omnic spite, Genji decided to see how his back stood up to his usual level of activity. He started with a few familiar katas in his room, and when he was met with only a stiffer range of motion and no pain as he went through the movements, he decided to move to the rest of the monastery. 

He scaled walls more easily, and there were lots of places in the ceiling he could tuck himself. He spotted other monks moving through and shadowed them for a bit, testing his silence, but largely left them be. 

He seated himself atop the head of one of the huge Omnic statuaries, legs folded, watching the mountains, letting their jutting peaks be the only thing to fill his vision. He felt a little like the last person on earth for a moment. 

Zenyatta found him there, though he said nothing at first, just stared up at him, “Will I need to fetch a ladder for you, Genji?” There was a genuine note of concern in his voice and it _grated_ on the cyborg’s nerves.

“I don’t need your help,” he said shortly. 

“You needed shelter, food, and repair. There is no shame in needing help.” He hesitated again, “I could ask one of the villagers—“

He ground his teeth and leapt from the top to land easily on the terrace below, “I don’t need your _help!_ ”

Zenyatta held up a hand, “Peace, please. I am sorry, I see I have upset you. I was just genuinely concerned about a fall from that height. I didn’t mean to doubt you.”

Genji grumbled, but let it go, “I still do not need your worry.”

Zenyatta considered, “Do you truly think it is so simple a matter to ‘stop worrying?’ That care and feeling can be so easily retracted at the whim of another?”

Genji glared from behind the visor, “Sure. For an _omnic_.”

The monk tilted his head, “You think I feel so shallowly?” There was no answer he could offer that wouldn’t completely out him as an asshole, so Genji just huffed and didn’t offer an answer, but Zenyatta continued, “I am afraid I cannot turn my feelings off like I could optic sensors or aural ports. I cannot unplug them like I could my voice box. I cannot unplug my _emotions_ , Genji.”

“That is a shame,” He said quietly.

“You think so?” Zenyatta waited for his nod before he went on, “You know, there are many who would not believe that I feel at all. That I am simply calling it an emotion, when in fact it is a preprogrammed protocol.”

Genji considered, “Maybe. But if you were preprogrammed you could be _reprogrammed_.”

“That is true,” Zenyatta allowed, though he seemed uncomfortable, “But if it was a preprogramming I would not be able to change myself by simply wishing it so. I would require a technician to do it.”

“But it could be done,” Genji countered.

“It could be. And you?” His voice was gentle, always gentle, “With the help of a ‘technician’ would you choose to reprogram yourself?”

“I couldn’t,” Genji said, “But I would.”

“You could not be opened up and changed with a set of tools, but you might with help.”

“I told you, I have had quite enough of _help_ , Omnic.”

“I do not believe you have been helped, Genji. There is such doubt and discord within you. I would like to show you the difference. Change is difficult and painful and frightening. But sometimes it is better to endure and transform than continue the way you are.”

Genji was quiet for a long moment, “And what if I end up worse than before?”

“Do you believe you can? Do you truly believe that if you try you will fail?”

The cyborg shook his head, too much going on in his thoughts, “I don’t know.”

“It is hard to be sure, sometimes,” Zenyatta told him, “To find sureties. There are so few things in all of life to be sure about. It is hard to risk one’s self, but the reward can be worth it.”

“I barely have anything left to risk,” Genji said, bitter.

Zenyatta offered his hand, hope in his voice, “Then you have everything to gain.”

Genji only stared at it for a long moment, “Why _do_ you want to help me? You’ve never been clear. Do you just feel responsible? I deserve an answer.”

“No, Genji. I am not responsible for the wellbeing of your soul. Only _you_ are. I wish to help you because I believe that you need it and I am present and available to try. You are _intriguing_ , and it would make me very happy to be able to offer what I can.”

Genji’s shoulders were stiff, “I cannot promise anything will come of it.”

“Nor should you. You owe me no promises. But change cannot come unless you are willing to let it,” He took a step closer, his voice gentle and happy, “But the first step is already taken on your journey.”

Genji nodded, but remained unconvinced, “Well if _you_ say so then it must be true,” he snipped.

“What would you like to change about yourself?” Zenyatta asked, “You do not have to tell me anything specific you do not wish to.”

The cyborg thought it over, “I do not want to be… what I am.” 

Zenyatta nodded and went over to the terrace railing, finding a spot in the sun, and beckoned, “Will you sit with me, Genji?” he waited until the cyborg joined him, both sitting on the stone before going on, “If you do not want to be what you are, then what would you like to be?”

The word tore from Genji’s throat before he could really stop it, “Human.” Was that really his voice? That sad thing?

“Are you not human?” Zenyatta asked, careful tone telling he expected to be rebuffed.

Genji fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable and sighed, “Not… not anymore.”

“And what is it that makes one human?”

“Well _being_ one is a start,” he muttered. 

“But what does that mean? _Being_ human? I am genuinely curious as to your definition, I am not trying to be contrary.”

“Having a… human body.”

“I see,” Zenyatta tilted his head, “I do not wish to pry if you are not ready, but I believed you to be more of a cyborg than a true Omnic.”

Genji scowled a bit beneath the visor, “That’s right.”

Zenyatta chuckled softly, “I cannot see your face but I believe I can feel the glare you wear so often. So, the question then I must pose is what amount of flesh does it take to be considered human? Do amputees not count by this definition? Is it a matter of percentage of metal? Does DNA not factor in? Or is it more about a state of mind?”

Genji grumbled, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“If one seeks answers then one must ask questions.”

“I—I suppose that’s true. And I don’t know, I just,” He huffed and continued, voice quiet, “I’m not human anymore.”

“Because you do not feel human or because you are truly not?”

Genji ground his teeth, “You are not _listening_ , I am _not_ human.”

“Oh, Genji, I am listening. Would you like to know what I hear?”

The cyborg sighed, “Fine, what do you hear?”

“I hear someone who feels so strongly that you struggle with your feelings about this daily. Someone who does not believe a machine like me really feels. I hear someone who is so lost to doubts that they do not even know what they are, only that they are not what they want to be, and what they want to be is something they cannot seem to quantify,” he spoke in that same gentle tone, “If you do not know what human is, then how can you aspire to it?”

“I do not have to know what it is to know it is something I can never be again.”

“So let us first work on quantifying what it is to _be_ human. In your own words.”

Genji ground his teeth slowly, “Having a human body. Amputees are fine, they have human bodies, just… missing some.” He floundered, how did one define something that simply _was_?

“And do you not have a human body? You are certainly more human than I.”

“Oh, more human than a _robot?_ That _definitely_ makes me a human,” His voice was laced with bitterness.

Zenyatta was nothing but cheek, “No it makes you more human than a robot.” He continued, more serious, “Perhaps the humanity you’re looking for isn’t a yes or a no, but further down a spectrum between mechanical and organic. Is that closer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said, voice controlled and flat.

Zenyatta chuckled, “Now who isn’t listening? If you’re not human, but you are not Omnic, then you are somewhere between. So what you seek is a little closer to one end of this spectrum than the other, since we are not the same. You seem to find it very tied into your physicality rather than your mentality,” he tapped his chin, considering something.

Genji drew a deep breath, more to fortify himself than because he really needed to breathe. “I never… I didn’t ask to be like this. Not really. The organization that did this to me offered me the chance to live as I lay dying. This was all… a surprise.”

That brought Zenyatta to silence, “I see. Changes one cannot truly consent to are the opposite of what you work to achieve yourself. Others take from you, and you are the one left to learn how to build it back.”

Genji nodded slowly, “I—exactly.”

“If what you seek to achieve is a human physicality again, that may never be an attainable goal. Sometimes when what you’ve built is torn down, it cannot be built back the same. That does not mean that it cannot be better though it is different.” 

Genji nodded, not sure he completely agreed.

“I was created in a world where I am less than others simply for what I am,” Zenyatta continued, “I had no control of it, no say. In many places I have no rights, in others I may be killed if I display traits outside what was programmed. There has not been a moment of peace and happiness in my life before the monastery that was offered to me freely. Each one was something I made for myself. It is _hard_ , some days, but it can be done.” He offered his hand again, “Sometimes one cannot accept themselves first. Sometimes someone else must accept them before they can begin to move forward.”

Genji hesitated, eyeing his hand, “Who accepted you?”

“Mondatta. He was my teacher, at first. But you may not like him, should you choose to get to know him,” There was a distinct note of amusement in his voice, “not if you find _me_ frustrating.”

“And now you want to teach me.”

“I would like to help you, though I know the word upsets you. I would like to impart what wisdom I have earned to you so as to help lessen your struggle, and aid you in freeing your soul from doubt. If you wish to call that teaching, then yes.”

Genji nodded, more sure, “Teaching then.” He hesitated for a long moment more, and then reached and took Zenyatta’s hand.

The Omnic beamed at him without facial movement like he seemed so able to do and squeezed gently, “Thank you, Genji.”

Genji wondered what he’d gotten into.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh I dunno Genji, just a robo man who's gonna be the love of your life, nbd. 
> 
> Inexplicably this spawned a conversation with a good friend of mine about who would win in a fight, Genji or her high level cleric of Vecna. We were not able to come to an agreement based solely on the fact that Genji does not have a will save.


End file.
